


Mind Tricks

by vials



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-01 00:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11474439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: James has done all he can to move on from Vesper's death, but sometimes it seems as though she isn't ready to let him go yet.





	Mind Tricks

The hotel room was exactly how James remembered it, and this time he was wise to his mind’s tricks. He turned slowly to the dresser and, abruptly, slammed his hand down onto the firm bristles of the hairbrush resting there. There was no discomfort, nor did the bristles fold out of place. James moved his hand away and the bristles vanished altogether.

A dream, then. Somewhere deep in James’s subconscious he registered it was a dream, but not close enough to the surface for the ripple to fracture the scene around him. He took another cautious step forward, running his finger along the surface of the dresser. There was dust now; thick, as though the room hadn’t been cleaned in months. Looking up, he could see cobwebs strung from corner to corner, and he became aware of a heavy, musty feel to the room. Sunlight filtered in through the open curtains but the scene outside wasn’t what it was supposed to be. Instead of the street that should be there, there was a wide expanse of water, a canal devoid of any water traffic. Across the water’s glittering surface, a building collapsed into the spray over and over again, slow motion and silent. Swallowing, James pulled the curtains closed, staring intently at the moth-eaten fabric.

“James.”

She was behind him, as she always was, no doubt laying in the bed in the same red dress she had died in. James had made the terrible mistake of looking at her, once, and he had never been able to shake the image from his mind; the way her soaking hair had stuck to her forehead and hung in drab clumps to her shoulders; the clammy, pale skin; the red-tinted froth that bubbled at her lips as she spoke.

“James,” she said again, pleading, and James’s hand made a tight fist where he still gripped the curtains.

“You’re dead, Vesper,” he said, his eyes still staring firmly ahead of him.

“What?” she laughed, but there was an odd gurgling quality to the sound. “Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” James said firmly, before vowing to himself that he would say no more. There was nothing left to say, at any rate. He had done this far too many times before.

_Wake up, wake up,_ he thought, shaking his head from side to side in an attempt to wake himself. He wasn’t sure if Vesper had seen him, but if she had, she didn’t acknowledge it. He had even begun to dare hope she might have left when he heard something that made his blood run cold. Instinctively, he closed his eyes.

The sheets rustled; wet footsteps hit the floor. James could feel her right behind him, and then her hands were on him, her arms wrapped around his chest from behind. James could feel the coldness from her skin, and his clothing soaked up the water where she pressed against him.

“You asked me a question before I left, James,” she said quietly, and while no breath brushed again him, James could smell blood and salt. It was a cruel memory; a nod to their running joke that if they had a few minutes apart they would start despising one another. In order to make sure this wasn’t the case, they would ask one another if they would still be in love once they returned. A silly joke, now haunting him.

“What did I say?” Vesper prompted, and despite his earlier promise to himself that he wouldn’t speak again, James found himself answering.

“You promised you’d still love me when you came back.”

“And I do,” Vesper whispered. “I do, I do, I do.”

Her repetition took on an oddly mechanical tone; returning to consciousness James realised it matched the sound of his alarm, now shrieking at him. For a moment he thought he heard the opposite effect – that it was Vesper’s voice again, hysterically trying to draw him back to her – but as quickly as the thought seized him it evaporated.

He sat up, switching off the alarm and resetting it for an hour later. The glowing numbers on the clock told him it was two in the morning. Waking himself up every hour was probably no good for his health, but neither was being trapped in his dream with no escape route, which was his only other option.

James lay back down, staring at the ceiling high above him. He closed his eyes tightly, but knew sleep would likely not come soon.

He could still hear her voice. He wanted to be surprised, but found he couldn’t commit to it. The whole thing – the chase after Quantum, the trail that lead to a flat block in Russia and a wide-eyed girl named Corrine, dropping the necklace in the snow – it all meant nothing now, alone in the dark with the sweat cooling on his skin. He had been a fool to think there was closure for this.


End file.
